Personal Element
by Dustbunny3
Summary: [Betty Director/Shego, one-sided] Dr. Director doesn't get what she expected when she puts herself out on the field in Shego's way.


A/N: Yeah, I... I dunno. The idea just hit me. It was originally going to be shorter before I got wordy, which shows more than I'd like. Could be better, I suppose, but I can't honestly say that I care to revise any further. Thoughts and advice are welcome regardless.  
...

In the shadows of the surveillance van, illuminated by the glow of a dozen monitors and a dozen more tiny, blinking lights, Dr. Betty Director becomes aware of being watched.

"Something on your mind, Markowski?" Director asks without taking her gaze off the center screen.

There's only the briefest of hesitation before the man answers, "Not that it isn't good to have you along, ma'am, but what brings you? I thought this job was routine."

"And if all goes well, it will be. I'm just here to stretch my legs."

It's obvious that the man is still curious, and understandably so, but equally obvious that he has no intention of questioning her further. Director puts the episode out of her mind. What she's told him is true enough, and all that he really needs to know about her intentions. Any personal element is just that— personal.

"Visual," says Marowski all of a sudden, leaning closer to a screen on his left.

Director swallows down the bitter pill of irritation that he's spotted her quarry— _their_ quarry before her. Her lone uncovered eye follows where he's pointing. The figure on the screen is hardly visible in the darkness, but a flutter in her belly tells her that it is who she expects. Markowski hits a button to zoom them in and— yes, sure enough, it's her.

"Shego," Director breathes before she can think not to. If Markowski catches anything untoward in her tone, or if he hears her at all, he doesn't indicate as much. A little louder, she says, "All units in position. Stand by."

"Ma'am," says Markowski. His jaw works silently for just a moment when she turns to look at him, then he says, "Should we call in Possible? I can have her sucked in through one of our secret passages in the high school—"

"Negative," interrupts Director, getting to her feet and double-checking her equipment; she manages not to snap the word, and is proud. "Our intelligence shoes that Kimberly has several important tests to look after today, and I don't want to interfere if we can help it. No matter how impressive her success rate, she's still just a child."

_She's just a child_, Dr. Director repeats to herself, ignoring the feeling of Markowski's eyes on her back as she slips silently out of the van. _She's just a child and I—_

She cuts the thought short and leaves it to bleed. Any personal element to her decision to be here is to remain personal— right now, she has a job to do. She didn't get to be where she is now on her good looks alone. Still, she can't help running a hand through her fringe in the guise of pushing it back out of her face; if she says so herself, she's looking pretty good.

Within a matter of minutes, she's maneuvered her way into the room where the day's McGuffin is supposed to be, about two minutes ahead of Shego, by her calculations. She's sure to re-lock the door behind her, lest Shego anticipate the trap. Director glances out of habit towards where she knows the cameras are hidden— utterly undetectable to those unaware— and promptly puts them out of her mind. There is only one person whose observation matters to her right now, and that person won't arrive for another minute and a half.

It feels like an eternity before she hears the tell-tale sound of the door lock being melted, the barest hint of light showing through. The door complains only lightly as it is pushed open slowly, so slowly. Director's chest feels tight, like she can't breathe until Shego is there in front of her. With her.

And then— she is. She holds one finger ahead of her, supporting a softly flickering flare of green plasma. The green cast of the light over her face should make her look ghastly, ghoulish, but instead she looks as beautiful as she ever has. She looks as beautiful as she did when Director first became aware of her work as a hero. She looks as beautiful as she was that night the news reported her first deviation from the law. She looks more beautiful by far than she ever has in Betty's dreams, because she's here in the flesh. Director has waited a long time to be able to see her this way, face to face. She's waited a long time, but after watching the footage of that latest scuffle between Shego and Kimberly, watching how close they got, hands everywhere, both smiling those cat-with-feathers smiles— she can't wait anymore.

Director eases her way silently across the floor behind Shego, cutting off her way out. She is careful to keep her expression blank as she rakes her gaze over Shego, mindful now of the cameras and the watchful eyes behind them. Her people will be in here the second she needs them to be, and not a second sooner— just what she wants. Just what she needs.

Shego is leaning over the strange storage device meant to be holding her bounty for only seconds before she freezes and then slumps with a sigh, the hand that isn't holding her light aloft coming to her forehead.

"A trap— of course it's a trap," she mutters. She lets her hand flare up entirely as she turns to take in the whole of the room. "Come out, come out, Kimmy."

"Kimberly isn't here just now, Shego," Director says, stepping out of the shadows directly into Shego's light a moment before Shego would have seen her herself. "I'm afraid it's just me."

Head held high in a fighting stance, Director knows that she cuts an impressive figure. Shego whirls to face her, falling into a defensive stance of her own— but there is no curl of a smirk upon her full lips. She looks at Director blankly, squints, flares up her other hand for more light and then cocks an eyebrow.

"Uh, sorry, do I know who you are? More importantly— do I care?"

The words hit like a punch to the gut, but Dr. Director squares her jaw and responds, "I'm Dr. Betty Director of Global Justice— and I'm here to take you in."

"So, that's a 'no' on both counts then," Shego says, and she looks so _bored_— bored and disappointed. "Look, if Dr. D's doo-hickey isn't here and Kim isn't here, I'm gonna just— _blow_."

So saying, she fires a plasma blast at the ceiling over Director's head, causing a small explosion. Director rolls out of the way to avoid the shower of sparks, but her eye stays on Shego's face the whole time. Still no smirk, no sign of amusement or even interest. She doesn't even look at Director as she makes for the door, heedless of the flames and falling debris. Director feels her blood go cold despite the heat and fires one of her own weapons so that a whole section of ceiling comes down, trapping them both— and locking her people out. Her better judgement screams an alarm in the back of her mind, but she blocks it out— she wants this to be their fight.

"Do we really have to do this?" Shego asks. Her hands light up again as she turns to face Director the way others might face a Monday. "I'm already gonna have to put up with Drakken's whining about not getting his whatever-it-is."

"Don't worry," Director says, "I'll make sure you're in different cells."

"Uh-huh. You do that, honey."

It isn't like when Shego fights Kimberly and calls her "Kimmy" or "princess" or some other pet name; it's dismissive, like Dr. Betty Director isn't worth her time. Like Dr. Betty Director is as important as spilled coffee or a red light, something that gets in Shego's way but is easily dealt with and forgotten about. Director's eye narrows. She won't let Shego leave thinking of her that way. She's wanted this too long— the moment that Betty stopped longing to fight side-by-side with Shego as protectors of justice, it was because she'd gone on to imagine them as adversaries, revolving around each other. There's a commotion outside the room, audible over the sounds of the smoldering metal of the ceiling and its insides. The cavalry has arrived— she doesn't have much time now.

Though she's armed with a number of weapons that would no doubt be of significant help, Director leaps at Shego with her bare hands ahead of her— she wants to fight Shego the way Kimberly does. She wants them locked in a battle of equal wills and equal prowess, throwing punches and insults alike. She wants Shego to look at her like a worthy opponent, to snarl, to smirk, to show any indication at all that Director— that _Betty_— is even half of what Kim is to her.

At first, things go well. Shego is taken off her guard by Director's abruptness and then by her skill, but still holds her ground. There is almost a full minute that they fight exactly on par. There is a moment when her brow knits in annoyance and concentration, and Betty thinks, _this is it!_ This is when the world shifts for her, for them.

The moment passes when Shego's eyes roll like she's just heard a bad joke and she grabs Director by the arm, both hands flaring bright. Director cries out, in surprise as much as in pain— and it is painful, despite her protective suit— and Shego hurls her into the far wall like so much garbage. Director looks up, dazed, to find Shego already turned away from her, hands raised. She fires a burning plasma blast into the corner where the wall meets the ceiling, metal screeching at the abuse and debris flying in fiery glory. Director raises one arm to protect her eye from the bright light of the blast, too late. Past the blobs of color she tries to blink out of her eye, she can just make out Shego rising into the air— a rope ladder, she realizes in a faraway part of her mind, lowered from some sort of hover device. It shouldn't have been able to get by her people—

"I'd say it was a nice try, but actually? _Thaaat_ was a pretty pathetic showing." Shego's voice sounds far off, even accounting for the ringing in her ears and for the sounds of fire and of her people trying to break in to assist her. "You're no Kim Possible, lady, I can tell you that much." She doesn't even laugh.

Betty doesn't know how much time passes before someone— Simmons? Simon? she can't think straight— is helping her to her feet and giving her a rundown of the situation. Shego hadn't come alone, as she had guessed already from the presence of an escape vehicle. A handful of Drakken's generic goons had been waiting just outside the range of their cameras. Though they had turned up late and hadn't been too difficult to dispense, they'd been enough to slow and distract the GJ units— already busy trying to safely bypass the blocked door— allowing Drakken through to Shego's rescue. Perhaps Drakken, with his occasional displays of technical genius, had been aware of the cameras and of the surveillance unit. Perhaps he, like Shego, had anticipated Kim Possible— if so, he didn't consider Dr. Betty Director of any more interest than Shego had. Betty finds that she honestly doesn't care, not that she could feel any worse, any more defeated and humiliated, even if she did. That Shego is sure to give Drakken an earful for using her as bait is a cold comfort, as is what should be the uplifting fact that the device he'd intended to steal is safe at GJ headquarters.

Once she's more or less steady on her feet, she pulls away from maybe-Simmons-or-Simon and heads to where she's pretty sure the van is still intact waiting for her. She sidesteps any and all inquires over her well-being and pointedly ignores the curiosity and confusion that she can see glimpses of among the many faces turned to her. Any personal element to Director being here, after all, is just that— personal.


End file.
